


it's stupid (but my love for you wasn't)

by miraclemoon



Series: Stucky poetry [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: M/M, POV Steve Rogers, Poetry, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-War, and never saves bucky in azzano, steve never gets the serum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 08:38:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7969855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miraclemoon/pseuds/miraclemoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>loneliness unfurls in my bones</p><p>like viruses spreading infections through my lungs</p><p>'cause darling if the pneumonia won’t kill me</p><p>this heartache just might.</p><p>***</p><p>In which Steve never gets the serum and waits for Bucky back home in Brooklyn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's stupid (but my love for you wasn't)

it’s stupid, isn’t it?

how sometimes I still remember you

when stale bread crumbles in my mouth

unrelenting.

sticking to my teeth like words lost in translation

because you knew that I loved you

but I was never any good at actually saying it.

 

i still see you in the cracks of the sidewalk

where flowers used to grow under your sunlight

pale petals plated in gold

and backs strong as iron

albeit a little crooked

as they stagger high on tiptoe

desperate to reach you

feeding off your presence until their bellies

were full with life and love

aching for your praise.

 

almost sounds familiar.

 

i still see you in the decaying grass

which mourns to feel your stride over its blades

a palette of greys and browns begging

to be swept away like old ashes on hardwood,

because Brooklyn is mourning for its sons taken too early

but I know you never liked to entertain pity parties.

so I’m walking through town ignoring the sounds of mothers tearing through letters

and I’m ignoring the cries of dames missing their sweethearts

and sweetheart I’m trying to ignore the way you used to turn concrete into gold with no more than the soles of your dirty shoes

because your footsteps always fell easy in your stride

and I remember following them like it was the only thing I knew how to do,

and that’s stupid, isn’t it?

you can’t turn ashe into diamond

and of course the wind doesn’t cry your name

and you lay _under_ the ground, not over it

and the dead can’t speak

can’t hear

can’t see

but darling if they could

i'd want them all to know

the way sunlight rolled off your back the mornings you could afford to sleep in.

i’d want them all to know the way your blunt fingernails felt pressed into my bones,

writing love notes of late nights spent together the deeper your nails sunk,

i'd want them all to know that I loved you the way fresh soil

loves newly planted seedlings

because all I wanted was to watch you grow

and I hope

that out of everything I gave you,

above the headaches

and frustration

and unrelenting test of patience

that I also gave you enough support to feel important,

because darling

you are the fire in my pulse

and the breath in my lungs

and this is so damn stupid, isn’t it?

how my existence feels wrong

without you here.

 

it’s stupid, isn’t it,

the way I feel you when snow melts against the sidewalk

sunlight bleeding into the veins of the city

the first glimpses of Spring visceral and wrong

because it’s warm and soft and terrible

and my body is still cold without you pressed against it.

winter stretches far into April

because the last letter you sent me was in December

and sunshine means nothing to me

if it doesn’t come from you.

there are no empty pages in my sketchbook

and my pencils are sharpened into short nubs

because the world deserves to remember you as the man

who wore tired smiles

like medals plated in gold

not as the broken soldier

scrambling to escape a barrage of bullets

Our Father's fast on his tongue

because he may not believe in God

but anyone does the moments before it’s their time to go.

 

sometimes I still see you in the moments before a car crash

because you’re a thousand miles away

but I can still feel the shrapnel in your veins

everytime grenades or landmines splinter into the skies

the carnage of metal tearing through your lovely bones

because you were built for love

not war

and it’s stupid, isn’t it?

because that’s exactly where you are.

and our bed is empty

and my doorstep lonely

and I’m still waiting on your letter

so will you just hurry up and send me something, you jerk

because the seconds are bleeding out into lifetimes

and how could you ever expect me to survive without you?

loneliness unfurls in my bones

like viruses spreading infections through my lungs

'cause darling if the pneumonia won’t kill me

this heartache just might.

 

it’s stupid, isn’t it,

the way I miss wearing your fingerprints

underneath my sleeve,

parading them like trophies that no one knew existed

because it was just another secret we kept between ourselves

as if we didn’t have enough already.

i miss the way remnants of your touch

lingered underneath the collar of my shirt

the way your lips seared my flesh like burn marks

yet remained invisible outside of our sacred space

or how your fingers felt curled

around my aching wrists

when electricity trailed up your spine

and God, it hurts how much I miss that.

i miss the way the smell of your favorite cigarettes

would linger in between the seams of my clothes,

sink deep into my pores

and cling to my flesh

and bury into the very marrow of my bones

like it belonged there.

like I was yours.

exhaling your carbon signature down my throat

and into my veins

every time those cherry lips found solace against my own

and darling I remember telling you

how much I hated the smell of those damn cigarettes

and yet I can’t help but curl my toes

and bat my lashes

when that sweet scent drifts ashore

into my lonely harbors.

don’t laugh

when I tell you

that I miss the bitter taste of your breath,

how sweet words spilled from your lips and dissipated like hot smoke

as we sat on the fire escape,

don’t laugh

when I tell you

that I miss the way you pressed kisses against my freckles

and connected them like constellations

with the tip of your tongue,

it was stupid

how you said you saw the universe in the pale hue of my eyes,

and it was stupid

how every time new bruises blossomed across my arms and legs

you said new galaxies were born far away,

and it was so damn _stupid_

because you are the stars and the moon and the sun

whereas I am no more than mere dust in this lonely universe

but damn it

i wear that badge with pride.

 

it’s been days

and the letter still sits untouched on our kitchen table

gathering dust and dirty looks.

i refuse to believe anyone that tells me you’re gone

because I still feel your breath in my lungs

and I still feel my blood in your veins

and there is life surging far away in the ugly trenches of Europe

where I’m certain you’re still fighting,

and no letter will ever tell me otherwise

because not all soldiers come marching home

but darling you promised you would

and that’s all the reassurance I need.

so I still see you in the dip of the mattress

where your body used to rest

i still see you in the curling paint of our apartment

that only got worse after you left

i still see you in the languid clouds

that hang heavy and full in the sky

and it’s stupid, isn’t it?

because everything reminds me of you

but that was always the case even before you left.

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to my precious bean [Nicole](http://archiveofourown.org/users/martystcutie) and my writing network for being super supportive while I worked on this ;w; 
> 
> Find me on [tumblr!](http://badbrooklynbitch.tumblr.com)


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